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After knocking on the thick wooden door, I wait impatiently until the sound of heavy footsteps grows louder. Finally, after a moment of fumbling with the door, Vrenner pulls it open.
He blinks blurry eyes at me and then looks up at the sky in confusion. I sigh.
When my cousin becomes engrossed in a new project, it captures every bit of his attention until he forgets to eat or sleep or even what day it is. Based on the presence of dark circles beneath Vrenner’s eyes and the lines that furrow his brow, he has been completely absorbed in his latest project. Probably since the last time I saw him.
As I step into the messy interior of his hut, I notice a half-eaten bowl of stew on top of a small table. Green mold covers the discarded food. The hearth is full of ashes and looks as if it has not been cleaned in a while. In the far corner, sits Vrenner’s bed with a bundle of furs piled in the center of the mattress. A fine layer of dust coats nearly everything in the main room of the hut, making me stifle the urge to sneeze.
As messy as everything is in Vrenner’s hut, I know that his attached workshop is kept in pristine order with not a speck of dust allowed to land on any surface. Every part, tool, wire, and tube is organized and exactly in its place.
Without saying a word to me, Vrenner turns and disappears back inside his workshop. I shake my head in wry disbelief as I close the door behind me and follow him through the smaller door situated on the back wall of his hut. A herd of magnis could stampede through the village and I do not think he would notice.
Vrenner is my cousin – his father and mine are brothers – but two males have never been more unalike than us. While he has the normal muscular build of a Laediriian, Vrenner’s muscles are leaner and less bulky than my own. Just like all Laediriians, he is a warrior first and foremost. He went through the warrior training just like all young hunters and he did very well. At the end, he earned the right to be a warrior and made his vow to protect the tribe.
But his heart was more interested in the technology of the Ancestors than learning battle maneuvers or practicing with a sword. Our tech at the time was growing older and had a hard time keeping up with the demands of the position, and he was relieved when Vrenner asked to apprentice under him.
The tech position is a vital role in our tribe. It is the tech’s job – in conjunction with the tribe’s medic – to monitor and provide any maintenance the wombs might require. As the tech, Vrenner also has the additional responsibility of studying and repairing the technology the Ancestors brought with them when they fled our home world.
The Ancestors left us with many advanced devices, most of which I do not understand, but I am sure Vrenner does. My cousin is the most intelligent male in our tribe, except perhaps for the medic. As tech, he will have access to the translation devices the Ancestors’ left behind.
By the time I reach his workshop, Vrenner has perched on top of a wooden stool situated in front of the wide table he uses as a workstation. A lamp powered by both solar and lunar energy projects light onto a small jumble of metal components in front of him and he is busy tinkering with them.
I clear my throat, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
I softly call out his name. “Vrenner.” He looks up, his eyes once again clouded with confusion as if he’s just noticed my presence and I shake my head with a bemused grin.
“Oh, Draggar. What are you doing here?”
I cough to stifle the chuckle that wants to emerge, and instead jump right into my request. With my cousin it is usually best to get right to the point while you have his attention before it gets captured by something else.
“I was wondering about the Ancestors’ devices.”
“The Ancestor’s?” He has already turned back to the tool in his hands. It resembles a small knife with a pointed end, but he pauses and looks up at me in question.
“Yes. I would like to know more about the translation devices they used. I believe they can translate all of the universe’s languages.”
“What? No, they cannot translate every language spoken.” My heart crashes into my stomach with disappointment before it soars high into the clouds with his next words. “But the translator chips are capable of gradually learning new languages that are not already in their database. The chips translate speech into Laedirich or Galactica using conductive technology and artificial intelligence. I have one implanted inside me. It is quite genius technology and allows spoken words to be translated with a nearly unnoticeable processing delay.” Before I can ask him any questions, Vrenner goes on to explain in detail exactly how the translator chips work.
Once his speech has begun to wind down, I interrupt him. “Do you have any more of the translator chips?”
His concentration has already drifted back to the assortment of components scattered on his workstation, and he answers me distractedly. “Uh, yes, I do, but they need to be repaired.”
“Could you repair them?” I try to keep the hope I feel out of my voice, but it is difficult.
“I could.” He looks up at me, his thick brow furrowed and his silver eyes questioning me. “Is there a reason you suddenly have need of a translator chip?”
I am not a male who enjoys lying. My father taught me that a male is only as good as his word, and the thought of lying to my cousin sours my mood. But it is not the right time to reveal the existence of the alien females to him, yet. So, I decide to bend the truth just a bit.
“I am interested in the technology. In all of the tech the Ancestors left us. As first warrior, I should have more knowledge of the technology that our tribe has.” My statement is met with a skeptical look and a raised brow from Vrenner.
It’s clear he doesn’t believe me, and I admit it’s not a very good excuse.
He chuckles, his brow ridge still raised in shock. “You? Cousin, you once said the only technology you need is your sword.” Vrenner laughs again, his mouth curving into a grin and his teeth flashing in the light. His voice is rife with disbelief at my explanation, and I want to bristle at his reaction.
Instead, I gesture towards the jumble of metal parts splayed out on the workstation before him, hoping to distract him from his line of questioning. “What are you working on, now?”
“It is a power source.” My cousin returns his attention to the project he’s been focused on and carefully uses a small pair of pliers to pry lose a thin wire. “For one of the wombs.” My blood freezes at his words.
“Which one?” I wait for his answer, every muscle stiff with alarm.
